STYGIAN
by complaintrain
Summary: A plane crash leaves Adelaide 'Alfred' Colton left to survive on a unhabited island with a group of survivors - schoolboys as young as herself. It's now Adelaide learns the true meanings of independence, secrecy and savagery.


I inhaled, the fresh air slithered down my nose and to my lungs, and I immediately feel sick. Of course, I do not, for it's just nerves but with the the feeling of longing residing in my stomach, I feel like I've just emptied my stomach on the sandy floor under me. I wish I was home so I could choke on cigarette smoke instead of the salty air. At least I would know where I was.

Standing, I take a step forward cautiously. My eyesight wobbled and blurred, but I can't stop the aching in my head. Immediately I flop to the floor, the sand providing me a fall more comfortable than concrete would have. I cannot get up, my legs still shake and the realisation of me surviving the fall sets in.  
I should be happy. I have survived, but now I'm stranded on an island, so far away from everybody I know. The thought wasn't t a comfortable one and it brought tears to my eyes. I've got to keep on moving forward. So I stand up and try again.  
I could be the only one here. All the other kids, surely not all could have survived the plunge. Maybe I was the lucky one, destined to outlive my life on an island with no body around me. Maybe I was destined to survive out here, picking fruits and drinking salt water until my skin wrinkles and my old heart stops. I'm destined to be here, but I don't want to be.  
I wipe the thick brown curls that had stuck to my forehead with my school sweater. I don't understand why I'm still wearing it, so we take part. I take off my sweater, which is soon followed by my shoes and stockings. Picking them up, I walk forward, the blurryness now gone and left me with just my conscious, who has began to belittle and beat me up in a time of desperation.  
I am terrified of this place and already tired of being here. With my jumper wrapped around my waist and socks and shoes in my hand, I venture forward, sick of the water that surrounds me. Slowly and cautiously, I stumble through the forest, fear stabbing my stomach.  
Once in, I began to realise how dreadfully warm it actually was (the sweat and salt water has soaked my clothes) . . .  
'That pilot.' I heard a voice say.  
'He must have flown off after he dropped us. He couldn't land here. Not in a plane with wheels.'  
'We was attacked!'  
'He'll be back all right.'  
There was an awkward pause. Then . . .  
'When we was coming down I looked through one of them windows. I saw the other part of the plane. There were flames coming out of it.' the first voice stated. 'And this is what the tube done.'  
'What happened to it?' the second voice asked. 'Where's it got to now?'  
'The storm dragged it out to sea. It wasn't half dangerous with all them tree trunks falling. There must have been some kids still in it.'  
I stoped listening in, smiling to myself. I wasn't alone which meant I had a chance to survive!  
'What's your name?'  
'Ralph.'  
The silence told me the first boy had waited to be asked his name in return but Ralph didn't ask. He didn't seem too interested. So they went on talking about the other kids who had to have survived, the first guys asthma and his auntie. Then I heard footsteps walk away. When another pair followed, I crouched down and followed them.  
Jumping over a broken trunk and ducking behind a palm tree, I looked around the beach: how bright this place looked in contrast to the dark jungle right behind me. My eyes landed on a boy who was most likely a inch or two taller than I was.  
He was quite attractive, in all fairness, with his fair hair plastered on his forehead, pale skin and what I could make out was light blue eyes. He was tall, quite slender and had this certain stance that gave me the idea of him being a natural leader. The next boy, however, was shorter and chubby, with spectacles and untamed hair.  
I realised I had been staring at the two for a long time. They'd dropped the conversation and the fair haired boy undid his belt, lugging off his shorts and pants and stood there, completely nude. I choked out, blushing and covering my eyes to prevent me from seeing more of him. Finally I mustered up the rest of my courage and stepped out from behind the tree.  
'Excuse me,' I called out to them but only the chubby one looks. I pick up the pace, another 'excuse me' rolling off my tongue. Finally the other boy looked up.  
'Oh, hullo. What's the matter?'  
'I've lost my brother. Have you seen him? He's about this,' I stand on my tip toes and raise my hand high, 'tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes? He's called Alastair. Have you?'  
The boys shared a look before the chubby one shook his head. I let my small smile slip off my face, replaced with a frown, trying not to cry. I was worried for Alastair. I hoped that he was one of them who survived the crash. The boys continued their talk.  
'I expect we'll want to know all their names,' said the fat boy, 'and make a list. We ought to have a meeting.'  
The fair haired boy looked at him side-long and said nothing.  
What ever the fat boy was hinting at blondie didn't get it. The boy continued.  
'I don't care what they call me,' he said confidentially, 'so long as they don't call me what they used to call me at school.'  
The fair boy - or as I'm guessing, Ralph - was faintly interested. And so was I.  
'What was that?'  
The fat boy glanced over his shoulder, then leaned towards the blond boy. He whispered.  
'They used to call me "Piggy".'  
Ralph shrieked with laughter. Jumping up, he chanted the tedious nickname over again. Piggy clasped his hands in apprehension.  
'I said I didn't want-'  
'Piggy! Piggy!'  
I wondered briefly what Piggy's real name was, but found myself far too nervous to ask. There were so many possible names, some suited him, some did not. Zoning back in I noticed Ralph staring at me.  
'Aren't you coming?'  
I wanted to ask where but I didn't. I followed them down the beach until Piggy called Ralph's name, claiming they could use this to call the boys. He said it was a conch and his auntie would not let him blow one on account of my asthma. I was beginning to wonder how dull his life was since he couldn't do much.  
'He kind of spat,' said Piggy.  
Ralph pursed his lips and squirted air into the shell, which emitted a low, farting noise. This amused me, as well as the boys so much that Ralph continued making the noises for a few minutes, stopping to laugh.  
'He blew from down here.'  
So Ralph did, and immediately the thing sounded. A deep, harsh note played through the island and spread. If people didn't come for that then I wondered what it would take to grab their attention.  
'Gosh.'  
A little boy popped up from behind the palms, not too far away from us. He looked about six, sturdy and fair. His clothes were torn and his face covered in fruit juice. As he ran forward, his trousers slipped down to his ankles, I immediately looked away. Then when he was close he stuck his only clean digit in his mouth.  
Piggy leaned down to him and wondered out loud what was his name. The boy replied with "Johnny".  
Piggy mumbled the name to himself, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger before shouting it back to Ralph who at this moment in time seemed busy blowing the conch. I took off my cap, tangling my fingers through my salt-watered curls before fitting it back on and seating myself next to Ralph.  
Three small children, looking no older than Johnny, tumbled over, covered in fruit juices. More and more children, all from the ages to five to twelve appeared, with Piggy calling names to and fro. Suddenly, Piggy bent his flashing glasses at two identical boys, repeating their names until he got confused.  
'Sam, Eric, Sam, Eric.'  
He got muddled; the twins shook their heads and pointed at each other, and the crowd laughed.  
Finally, Ralph came to a stop, the conch trailing from one hand, his head bowed on his knees. As the echoes died away so did the laughter, and there was silence.  
I scanned the crowd for a pale, brunet boy with a unkind grin and broad shoulders but I couldn't see him anywhere. A dark feeling coursed through me, I started to worry that I would never see my brother again. With a sigh, I looked up.  
'Where's the man with the trumpet?' a newcomer asked, cloaked like the rest of his followers. Ralph answered honestly, saying there was no man with a trumpet. Just him.  
The boy came close and stared down at Ralph, screwing up his face as he did so. Clearly, the sight of the boy in front of him didn't please him. He turned quickly, black cloak circling.  
'Isn't there a ship, then?'  
I could make out strands of ginger hair from underneath his cap. His eyes were a special kind of light blue, narrowed and angry. To add, he was pale and freckled, not attractive but certainly not ugly. Ralph spoke to his back.  
'No, we're having a meeting. Come and join in.'  
The boys in cloaks began to scatter free from their line. The boy shouted at them.  
'Choir! Stand still!'  
Obedient, the group huddled back into their line and stood there, swaying in the sun. I could only imagine how much they were sweating and some began to protest faintly.  
'But, Merridew. Please, Merridew . . . Can't we?'  
One of the boys flopped on his face in the sand and the line broke up. I stood up and helped heave the fallen choir boy onto the platform and let him lie. Merridew seemed to make the best out of a bad job, letting him lie there.  
'All right then. Sit down. Let him alone.'  
'But Merridew.'  
'He's always throwing a faint,' said Merridew. 'He did in Gib., and Addis; and at matins over the precentor.  
The choir sniggered, I didn't find it very funny.  
Merridew turned to Ralph, 'Aren't there any growm-ups?'  
'No.'  
Merridew sat down on a trunk and looked around the circle, stating we would have to take care of ourselves. Like we didn't know.  
Piggy, from the safe side of Ralph, spoke timidly.  
'That's why Ralph made a meeting. So we can decide what to do. We've heard names. That's Johnny. Those two-they're twins, Sam 'n' Eric. Which is Eric-? You? No-you're Sam-.'  
'I'm Sam.'  
''n' I'm Eric.'  
'We'd better all have names,' spoke Ralph, 'so I'm Ralph.'  
'We got most names,' said Piggy. 'Got 'em just now."  
'Kids' names,' said Merridew. 'Why should I be Jack? I'm Merridew.'  
'Then,' went Piggy, 'that boy-I forget-'  
'You're talking too much,' said Jack Merridew. 'Shut up, fatty.'  
Laughter arose.  
'He's not Fatty,' shouted Ralph. 'His real name is Piggy!'  
More laughter. I felt bad for Piggy, I truly did. Ralph was only trying to help him out but it seemed to had made the whole situation worse. Piggy bent his head, hiding his flushed cheeks and began to clean his steamed glasses.  
The laughter died down and the naming continued. There was Maurice, Henry, Robert, Bill, Harold and Roger. The one who had fainted sat up against a palm trunk, smiled at Ralph and said that his name was Simon.  
'Who's that?' Jack demanded, nodding at me. I forgot I had not introduced myself yet, not even to Ralph or Piggy. Ralph looked at me from the corner of his eye, vaguely interested.  
'I'm Alfred,' I said with a small, unnoticeable twinge of uncertainty. Jack stared at me for a few seconds which made my heart hammer in my chest. I'd been playing the game for so long, how could someone who had just met me knew I was lying?  
Jack spoke again.  
'We've got to decide about being rescued.  
That created buzz. One of the small boys I believed was called Henry said that he wanted to go home.  
'Shut up,' said Ralph absently. He lifted the conch. 'Seems to me we ought to have a chief to decide things.'  
'A chief! A chief!'  
'I ought to be chief,' Jack stated arrogantly, 'because I'm chapter chorister and head boy. I can sing C sharp.'  
Another buzz. I rolled my eyes.  
'Well then,' he said, 'I-'  
He hesitated, letting the dark boy named Roger cut in.  
'Let's have a vote.'  
'Yes!'  
'Vote for chief!'  
'Let's vote-!'  
I had no doubt that Ralph was going to win. Although Jack was firm, arrogant and clearly a born leader, there was something about Ralph that had everyone interested. Was it his size, or attractive appearance? Maybe it was the conch - clearly now a powerful thing to use whilst stranded on an island. In my eyes, he was a most obvious character to be elected chief.  
Sentences were called out: 'Him with the shell!' 'Ralph! Ralph!' 'Let him be chief with the trumpet-thing.'  
Ralph raised his hand for silence, then asking who wanted Jack for chief. Of course, obediently and confidence, the choir raised my hands. I didn't, I kept my hands firmly by my side, not wishing to put my trust and power into a stranger I knew nothing about.  
Ralph counted.  
'I'm chief then.'  
There was cheer and applause. It seemed to hide the overpowering embarrassment Jack now reeked of.  
'The chour belongs to you, of course.'  
'They could be the army-'  
'Or hunters-'  
'Jack's in charge of the choir,' said Ralph, waving the conch for silence. 'They can be- what do you want them to be?'  
'Hunters.'  
Jack and Ralph smiled at each other with shy liking before the red head stood up, commanding his new hunters to strip from their togs, whch they did. I heard them talk about making an xpedition to see if this was an island. No longer caring, I stared out to the horizon whilst chewing on my lip anxiously.  
The next thing I knew was Piggy was next to me, mumbling about being around Ralph when he found the conch and being with him before anyone else had. Sympathetically I patted his chubby shoulder.  
'He even told them I was called Piggy; an' I did say not to tell an' then he just tells them all without a care!'  
'It'll be alright,' I said.  
'For you. Nobody is calling you any names.'  
'You're right. Nobody is calling me names - but it'll get better, I promise you that.'  
Without letting him reply I stood up and walked away from him, making my way to the shore. I ignored all the kids, the choir boys (or now hunters) and even Sam 'n' Eric. I swirled my toe around in the water, looking out in the horizon for a blob with brown curls. To my extreme disappointment, I found no one but myself.  
Taking of my cap, I tangled my fingers in my short brown curls. I couldn't help but stare down at my binded chest: I hadn't had much to begin with, but there was still something there. As for my chubby hips there was nothing I could do - I hit my femininity the best I could.  
There was no point of me pretending to be a boy anymore. Alastair wasn't here, and nor was the all-boys bording school. But I was the only female trapped on this island - the thought made me extemely uncomfortable, I had no idea why. I decided it was better to say nothing, be Alfred instead of Adalaide and play my boyish part.  
'Oh, Alastair, where are you?'


End file.
